


Auld Lang Syne

by bourgeois, rafaelbaseball



Series: Sonny Side Up 'verse [4]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bourgeois/pseuds/bourgeois, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafaelbaseball/pseuds/rafaelbaseball
Summary: If he was honest with himself, Sonny might admit he didn’t actually know what going to a District Attorney’s Office New Year's event would actually entail.-Or: Sonny Carisi went to the District Attorney’s Office New Year's party and all he got was this crappy inferiority complex.





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Time is an illusion, though it was still important for me to get this out on January 1st and not a second later. As a result, all typos are purely my own and will be dealt with in real time. Please forgive.
> 
> As always, please check out our [tumblr dedicated to this AU!](https://officialsonnysideup.tumblr.com/) You can also follow [Sonny](https://twitter.com/sonnysideupYT) and his charmingly technologically inept [boyfriend](https://twitter.com/number1ssufan) on Twitter as well!
> 
> Happy New Year, all!

If he was honest with himself, Sonny might admit he didn’t actually know what going to a District Attorney’s Office New Year's event would actually entail.

All he knew for certain was that it was a chance to see Rafael in his natural habitat, surrounded by the three-piece and legal jargon and he was accustomed to. Something familiar and stable, unlike the hordes of teen girls and flashing lights he’s been oriented to. He’s felt guilt on more than one occasion for dragging Rafael to all of his functions. He can't help it though. How can he not want to flaunt him around even a little, to open up his world and share that part of himself?

Now Rafael has the chance to do the same, and Sonny is grateful. Really, he is. For all Rafael had complained about the DA party—the food, the people, the watered down drinks, the ‘general ambience,’ whatever _that_ meant—Sonny noticed how much straighter he stood when he walked through the door of the benefit fall and shook hands with important-looking people wearing important-looking suits. How lead instead of followed, hand on Sonny’s arm or softly pressing into his back, guiding him. Rafael was always beautiful in an ethereal, purely indescribable way, but never more than when he was absolutely in his element. 

Sonny could...maybe fair better, considering. He feels almost shabby standing next to Rafael in a pressed dark tux with shoes buffed so fine Sonny could pick his teeth in their shine. He looks fancy and expensive, like the rest of the attendees, and Sonny looks...

Well, he _has_ suits, of course, but not _nice_ suits. Not ‘office-party-with-half-the-New-York-Justice-Department’ suits. He almost bought a new one just for the occasion, but at the last minute, he had changed his mind, certain that he was overthinking things and that everything would be fine. 

He regrets that now.

“Geez, is this where all my tax dollars are going to? Champagne and Versace?” He jokes.

Rafael takes a generous sip of his wine before drawling, “As long as we’re robbing the taxpayers blind you'd think Uncle Sam could shell out for a better venue.”

Sonny cracks a smile and tugs at his jacket again. There are a couple of smiling waitresses floating around handing out flutes of champagne, but he’s missed them twice now. If someone, anyone, doesn’t put a drink in his hand soon he might just crumble apart from stress in the next five seconds.

It’s not that he’s not used to crowds or schmoozing; crowds and schmoozing were 90% of the job when he was first starting out on his channel. But that was different— _he_ was different. There was a world difference between entertaining pranksters and holding his own among the stuffed suits who dealt in criminal law for a living.

Rafael places a warm hand on the small of his back to guide him deeper into the throng. He lets himself relax into the familiar touch. 

“Calm down, I can hear your thoughts from here. You feeling okay?”

Sonny tries to flash him a reassuring smile, but it lands more as a grimace. He tugs on the edge of his jacket again

“This is nothing like the annual YouTubers New Years party,” he jokes weakly. 

“Would you feel more at home if ADA Morgenstern crashed into the punch bowl?”

“Hey now, that was funny! They’re the Prank Bros! What do expect them to do with a giant bowl of punch?”

“I’m gonna guess ‘not act like rabid chimpanzees’ is not the answer you’re looking for.”

A woman in a black dress that looks like it costs more than Sonny’s entire studio flags Rafael down. Rafael rolls his eyes and mouths Kill me, please, but when the woman walks up he’s all smiles.

“Lisa Hassler, as I live and breathe,” he says cooly, the edges of his smile curling up almost mockingly. “What are you doing here fraternizing with us lowly civil servants for?”

The woman, Lisa, smiles. She reminds him of a shark in an aquarium, contained but imposing. 

“Why Mr. Barba, I’m always willing to donate to a charitable cause.” She lifts her champagne glass but doesn’t take a sip. Her eyes fall to Sonny and he straightens up instinctively. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Sonny,“ he answers almost reluctantly. “Sonny, this is Lisa Hassler. She's a defense attorney with a record almost as renowned as her pockets are deep.”

“Sonny.” She ignores Rafael’s jibe in favor of rolling his name around her tongue like a swear. Sonny only just resists the urge to tug on his jacket again. 

No, this isn’t like the YouTuber’s annual YouYears Eve party at _all_. 

He holds his hand out to shake. “Sonny Carisi. Nice to meet you.”

She eyes his hand before shaking it. Her palms are soft and the silver of her rings are cold where they press against his own. 

“So, Sonny, what do you do? I don't think I've seen you around the DA’s office. Unless Barba here’s not scouting the local law firms for dates…”

“Not on your life,” Rafael says too sweetly to be genuine. 

They both look at Sonny expectantly. He almost chokes on his haste to speak. 

“I'm a—a chef.”

“A chef?” She hums and tits her head. “Tell me you didn’t cater this shindig.”

“Ah, no, no. I actually do more instructional stuff. I have a YouTube channel.”

Sonny watches as her expression shifts, too quick  
To catch, before it settles on cool disinterest. 

“Well isn't that interesting,” she says easily. 

Rafael says something but Sonny doesn't hear it, too warm around the collar. It takes him a beat to put a name to the feeling: embarrassment. He's embarrassed, and he doesn't even know this woman. From the way Rafael’s teasing smile pulls steadily into a snarl the longer they chat, he doesn't even like her. 

Rafael’s hand finds its way back to the small of his back and pushes. Sonny steps forward and tries not to feel like a puppet. “Well, I wish I could say it was nice catching up with you Lisa.”

“You should consider leaving that attitude in 2017,” Lisa calls after him even as they're slowly but firmly pushing their way through the crowd. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. YouTube Chef!”

Before Sonny can even get his footing back from whatever _that_ was they’re practically rushed by another throng of people. Rafael handles them all with an easy charm that Sonny remains in awe of even as he chokes and stumbles on his words as if they're too slippery to hold. 

He's introduced at a breakneck speed to a host of lawyers and their spouses—surgeons, hedge fund managers, nonprofit CFOs. He watches them smile warmly at Rafael as he's introduced. He watches their expressions morph into confusion as he attempts to explain what Sonny does for a living. He takes in the polite nods and mirroring smiles as they steer the conversation into shop talk that Sonny will never stand a chance of understanding. 

He gets over his fear of flagging down the waitresses pretty quickly after that. Rafael wasn't lying when he said the DA was too cheap to go for the good pour. 

For what feels like the thousandth time that night he checks his watch. 11:32 blinks at him obnoxiously from his watch—the watch Rafael bought him for Christmas. The one he's afraid to check the price tag of.

Rafael’s fingers wrap around the wrist and cover the face of the watch. Rafael uses his grip to tug Sonny down gently and whisper, “Aggressive elbow-rubber, 10 o’clock.”

It’s the only warning he gets before a plump man with a flushed face and a tiny woman hanging from his arm walks up and slaps Rafael on the arm. “Rafael Barba! Good to see you! I thought these functions weren’t your style.”

Rafael smiles the way Sonny has come to interpret as cordial but exhausted. “Anywhere where the alcohol flows freely is my style, Dan. I didn't think I'd see you this year.”

“Oh, a little bit of bronchitis never killed anyone. Besides, champagne is good for the heart.”

“I don't think that's true,” the woman murmurs. 

“Sonny, this is AD Dan Holden and his wife Celia. Dan, this is my boyfriend, Sonny.”

Recognition lights in the man’s eyes. “Hey, don't I know from somewhere? Oh! You’re that, um. Gosh, it’s on the tip of my tongue. Celia, help me out here.”

Celia’s brow wrinkles. “Gabby watches it, right? That thing on the internet.”

“Something about eggs?”

“Sonny Side Up,” Rafael supplies helpfully. 

Dan snaps his fingers and grins. “That's it! Oh, my niece loves your little show. She jabbers about it all the time. Yap, yap, yap—you know how teen girls are.”

Sonny winces. “Um—”

“You should get a picture for her!” Celia says excitedly. 

Dan is spreading pulling out his phone with the one not clutching his flute. “Oh, she'd love that. Would you mind?”

Dan and Celia look up at him expectantly. Rafael, too, looks at him, though his expression is unreadable. 

Sonny has posed for a thousand pictures, and no doubt once tonight is over he'll pose for a thousand more. So it's only a wonder why posting for Dan Holden’s niece—who loves his little internet show—is the last thing he wants to be doing tonight. 

Still, he forces a smile and shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

He smiles while Dan takes his phone out and positions it. He keeps smiling as the man squints at the screen almost a full minute later.

“Bear with me,” he grunts. “My daughter got me this new phone for Christmas and the buttons are so damn small.”

His cheeks hurt by now. 

He keeps smiling. 

Finally, and with some assistance from Celia and Rafael, Dan snaps the picture. Then he snaps another one because his thumb was over the camera the first time. 

“This blasted phone I tell you,” he says apologetically. Then, with a smile, “Thank you, Mr. Sonny Side Up!”

Sonny watches them walk away, and tenses when he sees another pair spot them and make their way over. He hands Rafael his flute and with a sigh. “I need to get some air, I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He avoids Rafael’s questioning gaze and pushes through the crowd in search of an exit. Cool air greets him when he finally finds his way out on the street. The city is unsurprisingly buzzing, the atmosphere alight with the impending new year. He’s always held a soft spot for it, as frivolous the idea of the earth’s rotation granting the world a do-over is. He catches the 11:57 time on his watch in the glow of a streetlamp and wonders if he’ll get one, too.

“An hour.”

Sonny startles and whips around. Rafael is leaning against the building, legs crossed and hands in his pockets. Picturesque and breathtaking so much it can’t possibly be fair. Guilt hammers in his chest and makes him look away.

“What?” he says to the street.

“It only took you an hour to get so bored you needed to flee the scene. I don’t blame you. Someone really should have crashed into a punch bowl.”

That startles a laugh out of him. He looks back up to see Rafael smiling at him, though the crease in his brow betrays him.

“No, you were right. That was kind of obnoxious. I mean, we didn’t have any punch after that. That _sucked_.”

Rafael pushes off the building and walks over to stand in his space, warming him through proximity alone. Sonny allows himself a step closer until they’re practically smushed together, choosing to orbit each other in a wide stretch of New York pavement.

“They're going to be dropping the ball soon,” he says softly. “If you thought the DA’s office was a raucous good time before, it's nothing compared to the same people, only later in the night and slightly more buzzed.”

Sonny chuckles again. Rafael’s green eyes twinkle in the light, and oh how Sonny loves him. He really, really does.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be back inside.”

“Why did you leave in the first place?”

He grins weakly. “I thought we agreed it was the aforementioned lack of punchbowl diving?”

Rafael doesn’t roll his eyes, which only makes him feel guiltier. “Sonny…”

Sonny runs a hand over his fans. “I, uh, I don’t—I don’t really fit in there. With those people.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not embarrassed to be a YouTube star. I’m proud of what I have and how I got here, it’s the best job in the world—who’da thought a snot-nosed kid from Staten Island could be doing spreads while _making_ spreads, you know—but, geez, Raf. All those people in there… they have ‘real jobs,’ or whatever, and they look at me like I’m some anomaly, and that makes them look at you _like_ —

“Sonny.”

Only after being interrupted does he stop to take a breath. Rafael tilts his smile and presses impossibly close until Sonny can’t feel anything other than the heat radiating off of him rolling over his skin in waves.

“How many times have I made a fool of myself in the Sonny Side circuit?”

Sonny blinks, thrown by the question. “A lot.”

“Right.”

“Like, a lot, a lot.”

“Okay, Sonny.” 

“I'm honestly surprised at how often—”

“You think you're cute, but the more you talk the more I'm certain you're sleeping on the couch with the cats.”

“No problem there, they make great cuddle partners.” He grins.

Rafael does roll his eyes this time. It feels like a battle won.

“My point is,” he says pointedly, “I feel the same sometimes, about your world. I can look a rapist dead in the eye in a cross-examination, but I freeze up when a girl asks for my picture on the street.”

“But you try,” Sonny says earnestly, quick to reassure. “And the fans love you.”

“Not all of them. I’ve read the comments.”

“What did I tell you about reading the comments?”

“Me not reading the comments was never a realistic expectation. _Anyway_ what I’m saying is—we have different worlds, and maybe they don’t mesh well, but _we_ do, and I don’t give a damn about anything else. I hope you don’t either.”

The tension that had been slowly tightening between Sonny’s shoulders all night evaporates. Something warm and full expands in his chest and renders him speechless, caught up in warmth and light and smell of this man. Of _his_ man. His lips tingle with words threatening to spill over, but just as he sucks in a breath he hears the countdown start from inside the building.

 _”Ten..._ ”

He wraps his arms around Rafael’s waists and pulls them even closer together. “You know what, Raf? That was kinda cheesy.”

“ _”Nine… eight…_ ”

Rafael wraps his arms around his neck and scoffs. “Must you ruin _everything_?”

 _”Seven… six..._ ”

Sonny’s grin falls away into a small smile, the held just for Rafael. “But you meant it right?

Rafael leans up to brush their noses together. Their breath mingles together in a fog. “Every word.”

_”Five… four…”_

“I love you.”

Rafael’s eyes soften to a sea of dark green that Sonny could— _has_ —spent hours drowning in. “I love you, too.”

There is so much more to say, so much more he wants to say, but the way Rafael looks at him tells him he already knows it. So he presses their foreheads together and waggles his eyebrows, lips twitching up into a teasing half-smile.

“Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch after all?”

 _Three… two…”_.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

_”One! Happy New Year!”_


End file.
